


Cornerstones

by Savorybreakfasts



Series: Flames [4]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Anxiety, BDSM, Edging, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Hurt/Comfort, Impact Play, Julian is a Sherlock Holmes fan, Julian likes to be looked at, M/M, Massage, Orgasm Control, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pirates, Porn with Feelings, Power Exchange, Roleplay, care, top!garak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-10 08:04:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12907701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savorybreakfasts/pseuds/Savorybreakfasts
Summary: Season 7, established relationship. Julian wakes up feeling overwhelmed—what Garak does to change that. One day from waking to falling asleep.





	1. Chapter 1

Julian fought to wake up, felt the thin winter sunlight in his face. Sunlight? Fuck. What time was it? Shit shit shit he missed the exam. Dammit why couldn’t Richard have engineered some better executive function while he was at it? All the genius in the world didn’t do much when you struggled with time and social norms. If anything it made it worse; everyone just assumed you were an arrogant prat, because struggle didn’t fit with brilliant. He pulled the pillow over his head, defeated, then felt a hand shaking his shoulder.

“Julian? Wake up, dear.”

He opened one eye. _Dark. Space. Partner. Garak. Deep Space Nine._ He exhaled deeply. _35\. Chief medical officer. Everyone knows, nothing hidden._ He closed his eyes again with a moan.

“More dreams?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Garak handed him a hot mug of sweet tea and he sipped it. “Thank you.This helps.”

“Where were you?”

“The Academy.”

“Ah. Showing up to class naked?”

Julian laughed. “Close. Missing an exam.” He drank more tea, smiled. “Absurd, isn’t it? I’m not dreaming of battlefield horrors, I’m dreaming of my youthful fears.”

Garak sat silently, waiting for him to go on.

“It’s just I...I used to feel quite helpless. Silly, really. I was in the safest place imaginable, treated well and groomed for leadership. But I always felt...afraid.”

He put the mug down on the nightstand and closed his eyes. “It’s back, Elim. I feel small. It’s all too much.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Julian realized the time. “Wait, why are you still here? It’s my day off, but why are you home?”

Garak considered several glib responses before answering simply, “I didn’t want to leave you. You were tossing in your sleep, and I thought holosuite costumes could wait.”

“But the transmissions you were decoding? Captain Sisko needs you.”

“You need me.”

Garak waited. This wasn’t something either of them owned easily; they each had a lifetime of keeping their own counsel and seeing to their own needs. A beat passed, and Bashir took Garak’s hand. “Thank you.” He paused, but couldn’t let it go. “The transmissions…”

“Can be worked on from here. Later. Now move over.” Garak stretched out next to Julian and ran his hand slowly down his pajama top. “I have more interesting things to decode.”

Julian snorted in laughter. “You did not just say that. Elim, I’m never hearing another comment from you about my jokes again.” He nuzzled his face against his partner’s neckridges. “God, I used to think you were so smooth. How did you convince me of that?”

“I think it was your spy fetish, my dear.”

“My spy kink, love, it really doesn’t rise to the level of fetish.”

“Of course, my dear. I defer to your psychological knowledge.”

“Oh, be quiet. Anyway, you love my spy kink.”

“I love all your kinks, my dear.” Julian’s change in breathing and pupil dilation was barely perceptible, but Garak had years of experience watching for physiological changes, albeit in less savory contexts. He reached over and took his partner’s head in his hands. “Tell me what you need.”

“ _Garak._ You’re already staying home for me. What makes you think I need anything?”

Garak dug his fingers deeper into Julian’s curls. “Let me do this for you, _doctor_.”

They locked eyes for a moment. Then Julian whispered, “Yes.”

Garak stroked his hair. “Good. Now tell me what you need.”

Julian hesitated, then whispered, “Everything.”

Garak smiled. “On your stomach. I’ll put on the heater; you take off your pajamas.”

Julian stripped, and stretched out on his belly, folded his arms and cradled his forehead on them, closed his eyes and surrendered to the peacefulness of not knowing what to expect, and not trying to anticipate. He heard Garak rattling around, and a feeling of safety washed over him. Garak returned and placed a surprisingly warm hand on his lower back. Then placed something hard, smooth, and warm above his sacrum on one side, and on the other. _Ahh_. He smiled to himself. _Bloody lizard was giving him hot stones._

Elim’s drive to share his pleasures, to let Julian experience his joys, had been an abiding theme in their relationship. His desire to share what gave him pleasure ran in a straight line back to replimat lunches with datarods of Preloc. He dressed Julian in clothes he made, played him Cardassian opera, spoke to him in Cardassian, and enlisted him in caring for the orchids that he grew in their quarters. Julian found it touching, and drank in Elim’s nurturance. There was still more of his world to discover, and being brought into it still made him feel loved.

He felt his body loosen more as two matched hot stones were placed between his spine and shoulder blades. Garak sat on the bed beside him and ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing and working out tangles, tugging gently, rubbing at his scalp. Julian exhaled deeply. He was aware of time passing, but the stones didn’t cool. Strange he’d never seen Garak with them; they were probably standard gear for off-world Cardassians. But they felt so good on his human back.

Garak removed the stones and Julian felt a lightness on his skin, which was quickly replaced with Garak’s hands pressing down. Soft. The skin on his palms so soft. He worked his way down Julian’s back and back up again, pressing firmly. Then Julian felt a drizzle of warm oil, smelled something earthy and woody. Yes. Elim’s skillful hands were finding and erasing all of the tension in his back. Julian felt himself melting a little bit more. He intended to let Elim take him apart today. He was already starting to unravel.


	2. Chapter 2

He’d first noticed Garak’s hands in his shop. Julian had come by to pick him up for lunch, and was chattering mindlessly when he stopped short, flustered, and tried to find a plausible reason for losing his train of thought. Even if he was ready to acknowledge that he was looking at Garak’s hands, and he wasn’t, absolutely was not ready to admit that even to himself, how absurd to say it was his grip on the sonic seam-ripper that had so embarrassingly pulled his attention from his story. Now, if he had been stroking a piece of fabric, some velvet or silk, that would at least make some sense, but handling such a prosaic piece of work equipment? Of course Garak chose that exact moment to pick up a piece of tholian silk, fingers trailing over the fabric as he folded. Julian remembered as Garak trailed his fingers down his back now, gently, and he felt like silk under his hands. He sighed happily.

“Better, my dear?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then let’s see about breakfast. Stay here.”

“Yes, sir,” Julian laughed, though he had every intention of staying exactly where he was. He took the liberty of rolling onto his back, stretching and scooching up onto the pillows. He laid back, closed his eyes and focused on the warmth in his body, the feel of the sheets against his skin. He could hear Garak speaking in the next room. He returned with a tray laden with dishes and a tea pot.

“I thought at first scones, but then I realized I wanted your strength up for later, so I also ordered a fry-up, as you called it in that horrible cafe.” He set the tray down and gestured at the plates full of eggs, bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms, beans and toast, as well as scones and moba jam. The steam rising from the tea pot smelled of red-leaf tea, and there were two cups and saucers beside.

Julian pulled a wry face. “I didn’t realize you were paying such attention to my breakfast choices when you were spying on me in the Sherlock program. Well-done!”

“It was the only thing worth paying attention! It kept my mind off your character’s ridiculously surface level “deductions.” Why, anyone could have fooled him merely with a change from their usual clothing and hair product.”

“Not anyone, Garak. You, which is why you were an excellent Moriarty. Although I still think you should have been my Watson, it only seems right.”

“My dear doctor. I believe you have it quite reversed.”

Julian smiled. “But what’s later? You said you wanted my strength up for later?”

“I booked us a holosuite. I thought perhaps we could play the pirate program you go on about so much.”

Julian’s eyes lit up as he reached over and pulled Garak in for a kiss, before turning to his breakfast with a smile.

Garak ate slowly, and Julian tried to slow himself down. Show appreciation, for the food, the company. But he was hungry, and it was good, and he ended up eating at his usual pace, talking quickly between bites. The latest enigma tale Garak had given him had actually been enjoyable, but Garak took offense at the idea that the inspector had anything in common with Sherlock Holmes.

“I liked the book you recommended for once. Can’t you just enjoy that?”

“Not when the reason you liked it is an imagined resemblance to that ridiculous man.”

“I never should have let you join me in that holoprogram. That interpretation of Holmes is a bit ridiculous, I’ll admit, but it’s fun to race around London in early 21st century cabs. You liked the stories we read, though, don’t deny it.”

“I did, but that doesn’t mean I thought they had any credibility about information gathering. I do know quite a lot about that, you know. Holmes’ approach was meant to dazzle the reader; it couldn’t have been relied upon. Real intelligence and police work involve far more work and far fewer leaps of logic. Although there was something to the brother….”

“If you think it’s a rubbish detective story why did you tell me you enjoyed it?”

“Why, my dear, I thought you knew!”

Julian looked puzzled.

“It’s elementary. I was enchanted by his love for his dear doctor.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still to come: pirates.


	3. Chapter 3

Julian was eager to get to the holosuite, and jumped in the sonic shower after breakfast. Garak continued talking to him from the next room. “I don’t know how I feel playing a program you ordinarily do with the chief.”

“Oh, but I play so much differently with you!”

“Do you mean to tell me the chief has never had you bound to the mast?”

“ _Garak_!”

“Well?”

“Well, yes, sometimes I’ve been captured in the program, but it’s not like that, you know.”

“Perhaps for Mr. O’Brien. But I see you when you come home.”

“Elim! I never!”

“It’s quite alright, my dear. I imagine I enjoy your holosuite boys’ nights almost as much as you two; the chief spares me the running around play-acting, and sends you home just as I want you. Perhaps Keiko and I should begin spending more time together. We have a lot in common.”

“I will kill you if you breathe a word of any of this to Keiko!”

“Oh, come now love. I imagine Miles comes home fresh from a victory over you, exhilarated at his capture of this pretty young man—“

“Miles does _not_ think I’m pretty!”

“Perhaps not consciously. But I imagine he comes home with a spring in his step.”

“Garak. Stop. Anyway, I don’t always lose to Miles.”

“True. I enjoy those nights as well.”

Julian turned off the shower and strolled naked and flushed into the living room. Garak drank in the sight, and Julian crowed inside with this power he still had. He almost strutted as he walked closer.

“Which is to be today, my dear?” Elim asked.

“Hm?”

“Which type of game are we playing?”

“I think you know what I want, Elim.”

“I think so, too. But I like to hear you say it.”

Julian met his eyes and took a breath. “Take me apart, love. Take me apart and put me back together and make me completely helpless in between.”

He could not help the beseeching tone that came into his voice with these words. He cast his eyes down and let Elim place his hands on his shoulders and kiss his brow.

When they had started playing this way, Julian thought it was simply a matter of endorphins, of physical sensations and pleasure responses. He enjoyed it the way he enjoyed racquetball, or rock-climbing. Intense sensation and an element of risk, and yes, pain. He enjoyed the pain, enjoyed the high it brought him.

It took him longer to see that there were more layers to it. That he enjoyed the power exchange as well, the surrender. Garak’s hands made him feel safe. When he felt small and helpless, choosing to feel small and helpless rid him of the feeling. He gave up power with Garak, and returned to himself with more.

Garak lifted his chin with a finger, kissed his mouth. “Yes. Yes, my love. Everything you need.”

They dressed quickly, or rather Julian did, Garak took his time, positioning his tricorn hat and adjusting his epaulettes. Julian’s breeches and shirt were easier, and he was barefoot, he said, for authenticity, but really because he enjoyed the sensation. He put sandals on for the walk over. They dressed at home at Julian’s insistence that it saved time. He wouldn’t admit he enjoyed the attention they received walking through Quark’s, but he knew that Garak knew.

Upstairs at Quark’s, they entered their code and walked onto the deck of the _Queen_ _Anne’s_ _Revenge_ , pausing to throw their kit out of the way. Garak grabbed Bashir’s arm roughly and dragged him through the jeering and whistling men, and turned him to see the burning ship in the distance. “No one’s coming for you. If they would have bothered anyway. You’re mine now.” Garak whispered this last in Bashir’s ear and he shivered as he felt the grip on his arm tighten. “The only question is what should I do with you? I’m sure my men could think of something, but I think I want you for myself. There’s something in your eyes…”

He trailed a finger down Julian’s face, and Julian used that moment to reach up and grasp Garak’s wrist. He was unable to move it, though, and they stood locked together until Julian loosened his fingers. Garak reached up his free arm and peeled Julian’s fingers from his wrist, then closed his own around them, squeezing slowly until he winced. “You’re fortunate. I like your spark.” He dropped Julian’s hand and went back to gripping him by the arm. He leaned in to whisper again. “However, my men saw that little stunt. I can’t let it go unpunished.”

With that he tossed Julian in the direction of his men, who scrambled for purchase, then handed him to the quartermaster, a large man, tall and burly. He ran his hands down Bashir’s torso and grinned before tying him to the mast. Julian looked back over his shoulder to see Garak watching, a benign, almost bored expression on his face. The bastard. The quartermaster’s cat cut through Julian’s shirt, but as the safeties were on, though lowered, not his skin. A sting was all, that built as the blows continued, and he started to yell. Julian knew the men were holograms. He knew that the holosuite had impeccable soundproofing, and that this was basically their intended purpose. But he felt utterly depraved. Exposed and degraded and filthy. He shuddered in pleasure and let himself howl. He imagined Garak struggling to stay in control as he watched.

His wantonness was rewarded. He heard Garak cry out, “Enough!” He walked over and freed Julian, then ripped off his shredded shirt. “I’ll deal with him from here.”

Julian started to drift as Garak led him below deck, grabbing their kit on the way. He let himself be led.

Garak took him into an opulent cabin, walked him over and bent him over the desk. He pulled his breeches down, said, “The way you cried out. You’re a boy and should be punished as one.” He left Julian and went to rummage in the duffel bag. Julian shivered. Not a holograph. Whatever Garak took out was real. Garak crossed back over and put a reassuring hand on his back. Julian looked over his shoulder at the cane in Elim’s hand and the questioning look on his face.

“Green,” he managed, and closed his eyes.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

At 19h they sat in Quarks, sipping their kanar and whiskey. They had used Bashir’s code to transport to their quarters afterward, Bashir pulling himself together to make the call as if it were for Garak. They both knew that Garak was so famously stubborn and private no one would question him wanting to be transported home and not to the infirmary.

By the time they had cleaned up and rested, they were both ravenously hungry, and feeling ready to be around other people.

Julian experienced a bit of a thrill, sitting in Quark’s and shifting about in his seat, unable to remain in one position. He knew the expression on his face was positively smug. He was well-loved and well-cared for, and before the night ended he would also be well-fucked. He basked in the light of Garak’s strength and liked to think that someone in the bar was gazing at him with envy. He took Garak’s hands, turned them over in his own, murmured, “yet he was possessed of extraordinary delicacy of touch.”

“Hm?”

“John Watson. It’s one of the things that made their relationship, which was written as subtext due to the times, so clear to later readers and historians. Doyle wrote him always going on about Holmes’ hands. In every one of the stories there’s some breathless description, of Sherlock’s neck or face or even his lips, but what he returns to most is his hands. I can’t say I blame him, if Holmes’ hands are half as skillful as yours.”

“My dear doctor. If there is any brilliance in me, it is only because you are the conductor of it. I am lost without my Bashir.”

Julian smiled. “You have been reading carefully, haven’t you?” He paused, then continued. “I enjoy being your conductor of light. You’re brilliant, you know, Elim. No, really. You have no idea what a respite our lunches were to me in my first years on the station. I never pretended to know less than I know, never chose a more common word or pretended that I wasn’t making connections as quickly as I actually was. Most of my day I spent walking around the station hobbled by restraints I put on myself, but with you I ran. Because you did. Because I found myself racing to keep up with you, and you can’t imagine how good that felt. Feels. Still. To this day.”

They sat for another minute before Julian said, “Let’s go home, love.” They finished their drinks, made their way back to their quarters. On the way Julian leaned over and whispered, “I hope you’re not done with me for the day.”

Garak smiled. “Not even close.”

Not long after Julian lay supine on their bed, wrists tied to the headboard, feet left free to wrap around Garak as soon as he decided to stop teasing and just fuck him already.

Garak smiled and continued stroking his thighs. He lifted Bashir’s knees and massaged more lube into his hole, sliding a finger in, then another, scissoring and stretching until Julian said in a near shout, “For fuck’s sake fuck me already!” He was answered with a hard slap to his welted ass and hissed in pain.

“Do you need me to gag you?”

“Dammit Garak!”

“I believe that is a yes.”

Julian groaned as Garak stopped his ministrations to pull out the under bed chest and rummage through the jumble of toys to find the ball gag.

“You remember what to do if you need me to stop and release you?”

Julian snapped his fingers twice.

“Now open your mouth.”

Julian glared but complied, lifted his head so Garak could buckle the strap at the back, then lied back down and closed his eyes.

“Do you want to be blindfolded?”

Julian shut his eyes tighter and tried to say please through the gag. Garak chuckled, satisfied, and Julian felt a glow. He meant what he’d said about being a conductor of Garak’s light. He loved to please him. Loved to surrender his strength and make his body Garak’s canvas, his clay. His resistance had come and gone over the course of the day, but that was part of the pleasure, too. Fighting it. Garak earning his submission. Feeling both of their strength in the struggle.

Garak placed the blindfold, stepped back and reached again into the toy chest. Julian felt a smooth plug sliding into him and settling, and knew he was in for a wait.

And now there was nothing but the feelings Garak created with his hands. No sight, nothing to touch or grasp in his bound hands, no sound but the white noise Garak had requested, the gag in his mouth, no tastes or smells. He squirmed a minute to feel the pain of his welted butt against the sheets, and was met with another slap, this one to his thigh. Garak didn’t need to say anything; the message was clear: no sensations but the ones he created. Julian was torn between his desire to please and his desire to feel more, to feel every inch of his skin and provoke more slaps and feel more and more intense sensations. He squirmed more, but this time there was no answering slap. Instead Garak leaned down and said menacingly in his ear, “If you keep this up you won’t come at all tonight.”

Julian willed himself still.

“Good boy.”

Garak took his erection in hand and began stroking, eliciting pleading noises from Julian, who did not want to come that way. Garak knew what he was protesting.

“Oh, don’t worry my dear. I’m not going to let you come from this. I’m going to fuck you, but not yet. I think you need more time on the edge tonight.”

He stroked Julian in the rhythm he loved, until his orgasm was just a second away, then stopped completely and sat back. He stood up and Julian heard him walk to the bathroom and come back. He drew a sharp breath as he felt the cold washcloth cover his dick, and almost whimpered as he felt himself wilt.

Garak sat back until he was satisfied that Julian’s potential orgasm was well and thoroughly ruined, then tossed the washcloth into a what sounded like a bowl of ice water.

He began running his hands over Julian, starting all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Garak brought him to the edge, again and again, until he had moved past screaming frustration and into an almost trance. He stopped trying to beg, stopped pulling and arching; he’d become boneless, pliant. That’s when Garak untied him, rubbed his wrists and arms, and removed the blindfold and gag. Julian kept his eyes screwed shut and curled into Garak’s body, clutching at him.

They stayed like that for awhile; Julian had lost all sense of time, until Garak had begun stroking his hands up and down Julian’s sides, kissing him deeply, tugging at his hair. Julian’s body responded, as it had every time before, but this time he knew Garak would see him through.

Garak moved him to be on his back and got on top of him, nudging Julian’s legs open with a knee. He ran his hand over his chest and Julian gasped when he reached his nipples. He leaned in to take one in his mouth as he rolled the other in his fingers. When he had Julian panting he moved further down, circling his navel with his tongue, nuzzling the nest of hair around his penis, and taking it into his mouth.

Julian protested, “I won’t last,” and Garak pulled off of him, reached back and removed the plug that kept him ready. He angled himself between Julian’s legs and slid in slowly, but Julian jerked his hips, impaling himself.

“That’s what you want?”

“That’s what I want.”

With that Garak started fucking him at a relentless pace, and true to his word Julian didn’t last long. His orgasm seemed to last forever, waves upon waves, and the moments until Garak finished and withdrew were almost unbearable but also delicious.

Garak lay on his back, eyes closed, while Julian idly played with his ridges. He opened an eye, “Are you satisfied, my dear?”

“Do you need to ask?”

“No, but I like to hear you say it.”

Julian raised himself on an elbow and watched the smile grow on Garak’s face as he spoke. “I’m so satisfied. I never imagined I could be so satisfied. Knowing what missing work can lead to I might never let you go back, just keep you in the infirmary to satisfy me on my breaks. Or better yet, I’ll quit too. Star Fleet can go on without us. We can do this all day every day.”

“Ah, I love your hyperbole.”

Julian grew quiet. “Seriously, though, Elim? Do you think we’ll ever have that? There will be peace, and we can live someplace hot; no one will be relying on us; we can spend our days basking in the sun and each other? We can grow old together.”

“I’d like to think so. But one can never say. We live in uncertain times.”

“I have to believe that we can. I have to believe that future is there for us.”

Garak didn’t answer, but pulled him to his chest and held tight.

Later that night, after they had showered, and had their tea, and were on the couch, Julian’s head in Garak’s lap, Garak asked, “I was wondering if you would enjoy me reading to you. Perhaps an enigma tale?”

“That sounds lovely, but I’d love if you could read the beginning of _A Study in Scarlet?”_

“Sherlock Holmes again? Should I be jealous?”

“Why do you hate Sherlock Holmes?”

“Why do you love him so? This is hardly the apotheosis of earth literature, this isn’t one of your Great Writers you believe I must learn to understand your culture, it isn’t even your favorite era or style. Why do you keep returning to a series of puzzle stories from an era whose name is synonymous with repression among your people? Of course there is the subtexual love story, but it’s hardly the peak example of that, either.”

Julian shrugged, hesitated, then tried to explain.

“The character means a lot to me. I was 12 when I read the Sherlock Holmes stories for the first time. His mind could do things others couldn’t, and that was perfectly normal to him. Even John Watson said there was something inhuman about him, but there wasn’t. There wasn’t.”

Julian watched the changing emotions flicker across Garak’s face as he listened: from bemusement, to concern, to fierce and shining love.

“My dear.”

And so he read.

_“I had neither kith nor kin in England, and was  as free as air—or as free as an income of eleven shillings and sixpence a day will permit a man to be. Under such circumstances, I naturally gravitated to London, that great cesspool into which all the loungers and idlers of the Empire are irresistibly drained. There I stayed for some time at a private hotel in the Strand, leading a comfortless, meaningless existence…”_

Julian felt a slight tightening in Garak’s arms as he read those last words, wondered if he was thinking of his own cold exile. He burrowed deeper into Garak’s side, clutched him tighter and thought, _if I can help it your life will never be that again._

Garak read on and the words began to blur as Julian’s eyes closed, until they were a comfortable background noise to his dream.

_Jules is running. Sunlight all around him, he’s left the other kids far behind and is running, arms pumping and hard pounding, breathing harder than he’s ever breathed. He’s never run so fast. He didn’t know he could, didn’t know anyone could, but he is, running so fast he thinks he might take off and fly into space. A wide smile splits his face, and he flings his arms open and leaps._


End file.
